Chapter Fifteen
Jane sent Johnny over to Adam's to see if he was home. She was almost certain he wasn't, or he would have come to breakfast. Maybe he's sleeping late. Maybe he's only just returned.
She gathered the little girl into her arms and carried her to the bed. Peggy made her think of a rag doll as she removed her shoes and dress.
Jane tried to keep her voice cheerful as she talked to the child. "When did you start to feel bad, sweetheart?"
"Bad Peggy," she moaned.
"No," Jane soothed. "Peggy's my little sweetheart."
She pulled a cool sheet over Peggy and got the basin and a clean cloth. She sat beside her, sponging the cool cloth over Peggy's hot face. This was horribly familiar. She told herself not to think about Grams. This wasn't the same, but she couldn't control her imagination.
Johnny came back and stood in the doorway. "He ain't there."
She looked up to thank him and realized there was something more he wanted to say. "What is it, Johnny?"
"There's a note on his door, only I can't read it. I expect it says where he's gone."
"I'm sure that's right," she said.
Jane thought she heard him sniff once. "Only I can't read so I can't find him."
Jane laid the cloth across Peggy's forehead and rose. She pulled Johnny into her arms and held him. She could feel him fighting back sobs. "Is she gonna die?"
"Of course not. Dr. Hart says healthy people recover quite easily."
"But Peggy's a baby."
She pulled Johnny away to look him in the eye. "She's not really a baby. And she's strong. I don't want you to worry."
"You're worried," he accused.
There was no lying to this child. "I shouldn't be," she told him, smiling. "You and I can't help it because we love her."
Johnny took a deep breath. "I could take the note to that George fella. He knows everybody. I could find Dr. Hart."
"Out on the open prairie?"
The boy shuddered. "I could try."
"I'm sure you would succeed. But I think I need you here more than we really need Dr. Hart." Jane prayed that was true. Adam had told her the evening before that she had been doing all there was to do for Ferris. She would do the same for Peggy.
"I need to take some soup up to Ferris," she continued. "I want you to stay here in the kitchen and call for me if Peggy needs anything. Don't get too close to her, or you might get sick, too."
"Too close to her? I slept with her last night."
"Well, last night she wasn't sick. I'll only be a few minutes."
Ferris was feeling sorry for himself. He was cold, then he was hot. His head hurt and his throat hurt, in fact his whole body hurt. He couldn't breathe if he lay down, but he felt too weak to sit up. Jane got two extra pillows for him out of the now-vacant rooms. She fed him the soup, left him a fresh glass of water and found him the book he wanted to read. She left feeling relatively sure that there were no signs of anything worse than the flu.
Downstairs she found Johnny sitting on the bed, his sister on his lap. He rocked her back and forth. The look he threw Jane dared her to send him away. There wasn't any use now, anyway, she decided. Besides, having him near seemed to make Peggy feel better.
Jane divided her time between Peggy and Ferris. By midafternoon she drew Johnny away from his sister long enough to take a message to George, telling him she wouldn't be serving dinner that night. He stopped by shortly afterward with a magazine for Ferris, which he kept rolled up until he took it upstairs. Jane suspected it might be less than wholesome reading, and probably exactly what Ferris needed to lift his spirits.
For Peggy he brought a Jacob's ladder toy, the six wooden pieces held together with bright ribbons. Johnny had never seen anything like it and tried to figure out how it worked. Peggy seemed content to watch her brother make the blocks clatter their way to the bottom.
Once George had left there was little to do but worry. The flu could, and had in some cases, turned into pneumonia. Jane was well aware of the danger of that disease. She did her best to hide her worry from Johnny, and Johnny in turn tried to be brave for Peggy's sake.
At the usual dinner hour, she coaxed Johnny to the kitchen table. She had boiled another chicken for broth for the flu victims and had fixed the meat with noodles. There was plenty, of course, in case Adam arrived. She had even set a place at the table for him.
Johnny eyed the empty chair as he took his seat. Jane sat across from him. They ate in silence, listening to Peggy snore and occasionally cough. In the quiet, they heard the door open.
Jane was out of her seat and in Adam's arms before she even stopped to think. The strength of those arms and the masculine, prairie-wind scent of him brought her to her senses. She tried to pull away, embarrassed, but he didn't let her go immediately.
"I see Peggy's teaching you how to say hello." He drew away enough to look into Jane's eyes. He was, of course, grinning.
Jane chewed on her lip. If she laughed she'd start to cry. "Peggy's sick," she managed to say.
He let her go, or rather almost did. He kept her hand in his and turned to the little bedroom. "When?" he asked.
"After breakfast. She's hot and fussy. She coughs and her voice sounds funny."
Adam touched his palm gently to her forehead and brushed a lock of fine hair away from her face. "Let's let her sleep." He turned back into the kitchen. "I practically ran that poor horse to death to get back here for dinner."
His arm went around Jane's shoulder, whether for comfort or to draw her away from Peggy, Jane wasn't sure. It felt very nice. No, it was better than that. With him here, she could almost believe everything would be all right.
Until recently she had believed she must keep her deepest worries hidden from Adam, that he would take advantage of her if he knew what made her vulnerable. Now she wanted nothing more than to pour out her heart to him. His calm strength made him seem capable of carrying the whole world on his shoulders.
She had opened up to him once before. He had learned about her childhood and told her about Doreena. And where had it led? She felt her cheeks grow warm and covered it by quickly sliding into her seat and raising her coffee cup. That was not what she should be thinking about with Johnny at the table and Peggy lying sick in the next room.
After dinner the few dishes were quickly washed and put away. Adam checked in on Ferris, while Jane talked Johnny into sleeping in the parlor. He brushed off any concern that he might become ill but gave in when Jane suggested that Peggy would sleep better by herself. When she apologized for the discomfort of the narrow couch, he assured her he had slept on worse.
Johnny took twice as long as usual to get ready for bed. Jane assumed he wanted to stay close to his sister, but when Adam came down he asked to speak to him alone, man to man.
Jane couldn't hide her curiosity as they went off to the parlor together. She moved a chair into Peggy's bedroom, prepared to sit beside the little girl all night.
Adam was grinning when he walked back through the dining room. He had kept a straight face during the boy's conversation, of course, agreeing quite happily to everything he asked. Adam wasn't sure how to break the news to Jane, however.
He found her with Peggy, no surprise there. "You should let her sleep," he said softly.
"What if she gets worse in the night?"
He didn't bother arguing, but moved another chair to the far side of the bed. "Johnny asked me to stay."
She looked up and smiled. There was no lamp in the room, but one burned on the table in the kitchen. Though a little twilight came through the window, he saw her mostly in soft shadows.
"I feel better just knowing you're here, Adam," she said.
"I've heard that a time or two the last few days." He leaned forward to press his palm against Peggy's forehead. She shifted a little in the bed and sighed. "There's not much I can do but offer reassurance."
The kitten scampered into the bedroom, undaunted by the darkness. After checking out the occupants he was off again.
"You should get some sleep," Adam suggested.
"I'll stay with Peggy."
"No, I wouldn't sleep, anyway."
He was glad she wanted to stay. It was pleasant having her nearby, and so rare the last few days. He'd offer again in an hour, he decided.
"It's my fault," she said after a moment. "If Peggy dies it's my fault."
He didn't like her even thinking that Peggy was in that much danger, but he decided to address that later. "How do you figure that?" he asked.